Pickles the Drummer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drinkthebleach) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-03-14 08:15 pm
drinkthebleach) wrote in sirenspull2012-03-14 08:15 pm
009 [video] Forward-dated to midnight, 3/17
[It's Pickles the Drummer from Dethklok, and he's being fucking festive right now, wearing a green T-shirt and his dreads pulled back underneath a darker green beanie. The bruises from the fight with AGI have even faded, by now (much to his appreciation)—they’re more of a pallid corpse yellow as opposed to that obnoxious purplish-black. He lights a cigarette with one hand and leans back.]
Okay. Everybody knows holidays suck an’ there's no point to any of them. There's only like, two that even matter: [Counting them off on his fingers.] New Year's Eve, an' this one right here. An' I know there's gonna be at least five or six culture-shocked dildos makin' videos askin' 'bout the green an' what's goin' on an' all that crap, which gets really annoying, after a while. I'm just gonna lay it all out for you right now. Saint Patrick was this dude a really long time ago that cleared all the snakes outta Ireland—that was important for some reason, I dunno. So now we all celebrate him by listenin' to depressin' folk music in bars an' drinkin' a crap ton of booze in one night. Everyone gets involved: even non-Irish dudes wear green an' get drunk. S' all about gettin' totally hammered, 'cause throwin' up is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual renewal, or whatever.
Big surprise, yer gonna see me passed out before eleven, tonight. An' then I'm doin' a total overhaul of my fuckin' life over here. So all this shit you see? [He tilts forward to take control of the NV again and swivel it around the room.] S' for sale. I’m leavin' this dump in the dust, an' I don’t wanna take anythin' bigger than a duffel bag with me. S' just the way I move.
[A long, almost contemplative drag, which he traps in his lungs for a couple seconds and then exhales through his nostrils.] Anyone need a TV? A chair, or whatever? I got a side table that has this little mirror-thing that comes out—I'll sell it to anyone that wants to do some coke.
If none of that interests you, I'm also givin' this up:
[Pickles sets his cigarette down somewhere off-screen (presumably in an ash tray) and reaches for an electric guitar. He brandishes it by the neck for everyone to see (and looks like Christmas in the process, with the cherry red instrument standing against his shirt).] This is a JS22R Dinky. S' not a Gibson, but s' not that shitty, neither. Chrome bridge. Heavy tone. Humbucking pick-ups, y'know. Round near the nut so you can finger the thing pretty good.
'S all yers—y'know. If you don't mind the fact that the dude that had it before died in a fire. I even thought 'bout burnin' his guitar too, I dunno. That's what I'm gonna do with whatever doesn't sell--I'm just gonna light it all on fuckin' fire, probably. Give it a viking funeral. I just figured waste not, want not, y'know? An' I could use the extra cash.
So yeah. [He lifts his eyebrows at the NV.] You gonna help me out, friends?
Okay. Everybody knows holidays suck an’ there's no point to any of them. There's only like, two that even matter: [Counting them off on his fingers.] New Year's Eve, an' this one right here. An' I know there's gonna be at least five or six culture-shocked dildos makin' videos askin' 'bout the green an' what's goin' on an' all that crap, which gets really annoying, after a while. I'm just gonna lay it all out for you right now. Saint Patrick was this dude a really long time ago that cleared all the snakes outta Ireland—that was important for some reason, I dunno. So now we all celebrate him by listenin' to depressin' folk music in bars an' drinkin' a crap ton of booze in one night. Everyone gets involved: even non-Irish dudes wear green an' get drunk. S' all about gettin' totally hammered, 'cause throwin' up is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual renewal, or whatever.
Big surprise, yer gonna see me passed out before eleven, tonight. An' then I'm doin' a total overhaul of my fuckin' life over here. So all this shit you see? [He tilts forward to take control of the NV again and swivel it around the room.] S' for sale. I’m leavin' this dump in the dust, an' I don’t wanna take anythin' bigger than a duffel bag with me. S' just the way I move.
[A long, almost contemplative drag, which he traps in his lungs for a couple seconds and then exhales through his nostrils.] Anyone need a TV? A chair, or whatever? I got a side table that has this little mirror-thing that comes out—I'll sell it to anyone that wants to do some coke.
If none of that interests you, I'm also givin' this up:
[Pickles sets his cigarette down somewhere off-screen (presumably in an ash tray) and reaches for an electric guitar. He brandishes it by the neck for everyone to see (and looks like Christmas in the process, with the cherry red instrument standing against his shirt).] This is a JS22R Dinky. S' not a Gibson, but s' not that shitty, neither. Chrome bridge. Heavy tone. Humbucking pick-ups, y'know. Round near the nut so you can finger the thing pretty good.
'S all yers—y'know. If you don't mind the fact that the dude that had it before died in a fire. I even thought 'bout burnin' his guitar too, I dunno. That's what I'm gonna do with whatever doesn't sell--I'm just gonna light it all on fuckin' fire, probably. Give it a viking funeral. I just figured waste not, want not, y'know? An' I could use the extra cash.
So yeah. [He lifts his eyebrows at the NV.] You gonna help me out, friends?
[video]
[video]
[No. No, he will continue this conversation in the spirit of good will in which it was started.]
Of course. Have you found a nice apartment for your next abode?
[video]
I dunno. I've been all 'bout gettin' outta this place, but I figure I'd just get a hotel room, y'know?
[video]
[video]
I wouldn't be movin' around at night. An' it'd only be temporary, 'till I can figure the rest of my shit out.
[video]
[Some part of his mind begins to protest the very idea of what he is on the verge of suggesting. Yet there is something in Orpheus that hates to see a man, no matter how questionable his lifestyle, cast out and left to his own devices when there is some way he can help.]
I do have a spare room. My original roommate was returned home long ago, and I never have found someone else to share my apartment with me.
[video]
What's the catch?
[video]
But as long as you don't mind a few pets, I would be happy to provide temporary sanctuary while you take the time for look for your next home.
[video]
...You gotta understand why I'm havin' trouble believin' this. I mean, after you were a complete douche bag to me 'bout tryin' to get you laid. You really wanna help me out?
[video]
[Deep breath]
We have had our differences, but I'm not going to let a man resort to seedy motel rooms, no matter how accustomed to them he may be, when I have an empty room.
[video]
[He has to ask.]
[video]
[video] 1/2
[video]
about the unexpected hookerfor no reason, he was a dildo. But Pickles also realizes he couldn't afford to throw money around right now, and couch-surfing would be more economical in the long run than investing in hotel rooms...Inevitably he caves, making sure he doesn't sound too grateful or eager about it.] Sure. Fine, I guess. If yer offerin' an' all.
[video]
I'll send you the address and we can work out a time when I will be home for you to come over.
[video]
[This would probably be the part where he should thank him for being so generous...but yeah. That's not going to happen.] Just send that right over, whenever you want.